Regrettable Circumstances
by Gothical-Fairy
Summary: I hate you' and 'I love you' differ in only three letters, and the circumstances in which they are said. With the help of a new book, his friends and one meaningful detention, Harry learns just how true that statement is. HPDM Twoshot
1. I Hate You

Regrettable Circumstances

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How idiotic can I be? bows head in shame. I cannot believe how much of a fool i've been (you will not believe how stupid I feel right now, lol). My greatest thanks to elisebanana for pointing out in her review that 'I hate you' and 'I love you' actually differ in three letters, not two! I've gone through these chapters and edited the phrase as appropiate, but I can't help but feel incredibly stupid right now, lol. Hope you can forgive me. However, am I the only one that feels the phrase just doesn't have the same ring to it anymore?

* * *

A/N; Well, to be honest, I've been a little bit naughty today. See, I have this essay which is over a week late that I sat down earlier today with the intention to finish the damn thing, but instead I ended up spending almost the entire afternoon writing this. Despite the fact that this means I will now have to stay up really late tonight to write that essay, I'm incredibly happy because I have actually finished this fic!

I've separated this into two chapters, to make it easier to read, so the next will be posted tomorrow or the day after.

Also, I direct readers of 'Veela Genes' to a note at the bottom of this chap.

Disclaimer; I borrowed the idea for 'Hogwarts book of secrets' from an online site (**Sunday Secrets**, AKA postsecret) where people really do send postcard-sized secrets in to be published in books and on the web. The idea, therefore is NOT MINE! It belongs to **Frank Warren**. Also, I borrowed the characters of Harry Potter to play with for a while, but have now returned them. I advice JK not to sue, for she will be wasting a great deal of time and money chasing after money I don't have.

Enjoy!

Oh, warnings (I forget every time); slash. Slash. Slash. Read that again; Slash. Nothing pornographic (sorry folks) but slash all the same. HPDM, but also a slight bit of SBRL. Only slight, because it's only mentioned once, and it only lasts for about ten lines. Slash. Slash. Lovely, yummy slash. Oh, and swearing.

XXxxXX

"Get the hell out of my way, Weasel!"

"Push off, Ferret."

"Ooh," a blonde-haired Slytherin male sneered, ignoring the snickering seventh years following him "big words. It's nice to know that, despite your severely lacking intelligence, you've still managed to gain a sufficient grasp of the English language."

"Piss off, Malfoy." Harry stepped forward, nudging his best friend with his elbow to stop the scowling red-head from drawing his wand.

"Ah, the wizarding hero coming to his side-kicks aid, as usual. Honestly, Potter, I'm sure the world wouldn't mourn the loss of just one of the Weasley spawn; in fact, I should think most of us would rejoice to hear of it."

"Well, sorry to disappoint you, but we're all going to be rejoicing at your death before you ever get the chance to party because of ours."

Malfoy scowled at the shorter teenager, his hand already grasping his wand.

"Was that a threat, Potter?"

The Gryffindor rolled his eyes, letting Hermione tug on his arm and pull him away down the corridor.

"Not really, Malfoy," he called over his shoulder "if I wanted to threaten you, I'd be using more than just words."

"I hate you, Potter!" the words rung in his ears just before the trio rounded the corner, and Harry couldn't resist turning back to face the blonde. The words hadn't surprised anyone in the vicinity, and so the students milling around them simply moved on without more than a glance at the sparring par. The small smirk, however, that played upon Malfoy's lips, was something that intrigued him, for it was one he didn't see all that often. It was almost as though the blonde was more amused than pissed off, as though inside he was laughing at a joke only he was privy to. Shrugging carelessly, Harry tossed him a bored look with his reply.

"Trust me, the feeling's entirely mutual."

xxXXxx

Harry looked up, startled, as an excited squeal filled the common room, surprised to find it had come from the entrance that Hermione had just walked through.

"Harry!" She cried, a happy grin on her face as she bounded over "you'll never guess what I've found!"

"A singing banana peel?" The teenager jumped at the voice that spoke into her ear, batting away her boyfriend's hands that were snaking around her waist from behind.

"No. What?"

Ron laughed as he sat down in the plush chair opposite Harry, pulling his blushing girlfriend onto his lap with a chuckle.

"Just the twin's latest prank. So, go on then, what is it that's made you all excited? It better not be extra courses or something, 'cause I'm already workin' my butt out –"

"No, don't be so silly. As if the school has the resources to offer more courses – though I have always thought they should offer the opportunity to learn several languages…"

Harry and Ron shared an exasperated eye-roll, smiling despite themselves.

"No, this is what I wanted to show you," she finally said, tossing a thick book at Harry, who caught it just before it smashed into his face.

"What the hell? Are you trying to kill me or something?"

Hermione giggled, ignoring the shocked looks she was sent because of the action, and motioned towards the book.

"Well, go on. Read what it says."

Harry turned the hard-back book over in his hands, taking care to not catch any of the various bits coloured paper that seemed to be on the verge of tearing and falling out. The book itself was purple, but the Hogwarts crest had been embellished onto the front, the title of the book written in cursive letters and red ink.

"The Hogwarts book of Secrets, by The Students of Hogwarts. Umm – what is it?"

Hermione giggled again, causing Ron to look rather worried at his girlfriend's cheery mood.

"It's a book of secrets for everyone to contribute to."

"Huh?"

"Oh, honestly Ronald," Hermione sighed, her cheerful demeanour dying down a little as she began to explain.

"I don't know who it was started by or anything like that, but basically each person who finds it must add to the book by writing down a secret. They can stick it in on coloured postcards, add pictures, decorate their secrets – you can do whatever you like, so long as you don't modify anyone else's work. The finder then leaves the book in some obscure place for the next person to find, and so it goes on."

Harry raised his eyebrows at her, looking at the book in his hands with some degree of scepticism.

"Okay….so, what's the point of this?"

Hermione almost pouted, looking towards her boyfriend for support. Ron, however, was finding it hard to contain his laughter, and so received a light smack around the head from the girl.

"Well," she began "it's sort of like – it gives a sense of community, doesn't it? And it allows students to share their problems and not receive criticism for it – and, well…well, I think it's a fantastic idea!" She snapped, folding her arms rather crossly. Ron laughed at the action, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

"We never said it wasn't, dear."

Harry rolled his eyes at the couple, already flicking through some of the pages.

"So," he asked, "where'd you find it?"

"In the library," was the reply, at which the two boys both had to stifle laughter behind their hands.

The pages were many different colours, and each was filled with the handwriting of different individuals.

'_**I'm sorry**_' one read _**'but I've been cheating on you with your twin (and pretending I can't tell the difference). Merry Christmas**_'. The secret was written in dark blue ink, and there was a hand drawn sketch of the Gemini star sign at the bottom.

'_**Snape hates everyone**_**,' **another read, causing Harry to give a little laugh _'__**it's not just you**_.'

The next page had a detention slip stuck to it, upon which was scrawled '_**Sorry, Mrs.T**__**but I only came for the grade.'**_ Harry raised his eyebrows, wondering if it meant what he thought it might, and searched for a date on the slip. To his shock, the neatly written date informed him the detention had been ordered in 1959, and so flipped through the book until he found a blank page. He realised that the book had been enlarged, so that it held more pages than it looked was possible, and couldn't help but grin at the wonders of the wizarding world.

It vaguely registered somewhere in the back of his mind that his parents were probably in school just after this book was made – would it contain any of their own secrets?

"Well, pass it 'ere then!"

Harry passed the book over to his best friend, watching with some interest as Ron laughed at the various secrets he read.

"'Ere," he said, grinning "listen to this one. _'_I thought that maybe Filch was shagging Professor Sprout, but then I realised that he only has eyes for that bloody cat'. And this one; 'I knew you would turn me down, so I made sure to curse your breakfast this morning. Don't worry, you'll be fine by next week (sorry you have to miss the dance!)'. Bloody brilliant, this!"

"Ron!" Hermione admonished, a small smile pulling at her lips despite her harsh tone of voice "you shouldn't be laughing at other people's private thoughts!"

"If they wanted them to remain private," Harry stated, folding his legs beneath him in the chair "they wouldn't have written them down for the whole school to read."

"Exactly," Ron agreed, eyes still glued to the page in front of him. "I like this one too – 'Sorry, but when I said 'I love you', I really meant 'I hate you''. And there's a reply written at the bottom of it; 'It doesn't matter, because when I said 'I'll miss you,' I really meant 'Good riddance''."

The redhead remained silent for a few moments, turning the pages with some degree of interest before stopping on one particular page with wide eyes.

"Hey, Harry? Does this sound at all familiar? 'I know you don't like me, Evans, so I'm holding your diary hostage until you agree to go on a date with me.'"

Harry's eyes widened in shock as he jumped up, running around the back of the chair so he could read the book over Ron's shoulders. The message had been hastily scrawled at the bottom of a photograph that showed a small leather bound black book, the word _journal _clearly printed on its cover.

"And, look," the redhead continued "the one after it reads 'I know you have my diary, Potter, so I'm holding Mr.Tibbles captive until it's returned."

The handwriting was much neater, and the bright red ink formed loopy letters that sat just above another photograph, though this one showed a ragged looking brown bear sitting atop a pink and purple pillow.

"Do you think…that's a teddy bear?" Harry asked, disbelief evident in his voice. He couldn't help but laugh at the thought that his parent's obvious arguments had spilled over into even this book, and couldn't help but find the idea of his father owning a teddy bear rather amusing, despite the sadness that swept through him.

"Hey, that's Professor Lupin's handwriting!" Hermione pointed excitedly to the page after Lily's secret, which was completely blank except for a small full moon drawn in the corner of the page, half hidden behind dark clouds, and their ex-teacher's handwriting, positioned in the middle of the page.

'_**You're the only one who truly loves me for who I am. I am grateful.'**_

"Awe!" Hermione cooed, running her fingers over the rough parchment page "he found love after all! I wonder what happened to her?"

"Are you sure that's Lupin's writing?" Ron asked, cocking his head to one side and bringing the book closer to his face "how do you know?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, nodding at the same time. "He marked our work for an entire year, how can I _not _know what his handwriting looks like?"

Harry didn't like to tell her that he hadn't known either, but smiled sadly at the secret. So Lupin had been in love? He wondered why he had never said anything, before mentally kicking himself when he realised it was probably a painful subject.

"Hey, I wonder if this one is from that girl," Ron said, motioning to the writing on the opposite page.

'_**I know I've always pretended not to care about anything or anyone, but you make me say and do things**_ _**that are so unlike me**_. _**I want to scream about my love from the astronomy tower – and I would, if it weren't for the fact that ever time we go there we end up getting distracted by, erm, more pressing matters.**_'

The secret (though it was more of a statement than a secret) was situated below a rather sketchy dog (or was it a wolf?) that seemed to be howling at the full moon drawn on Lupin's page, and Harry couldn't help but think he recognised the small, spiky handwriting.

"Wait, doesn't that look like…" Hermione was obviously thinking the same thing, but her eyes widened comically at the end of her statement, her hand flying to her mouth.

"Oh…" she trailed off, a small smile forming on her lips "oh, that's so sweet."

"What?" Ron asked, bewildered by her actions "what does it look like?"

Hermione blushed, glancing between the pair with a thoughtful look on her face, as though debating whether or not to tell them.

"Well," she said, her voice deliberately soft "it could be a spell, of course, and it could be my mind playing tricks on me, but…well, it sort of looks like Snuffle's writing."

"What?" Ron cried, jumping at the statement almost dislodging Hermione from his knee. "You can't be serious!"

Harry blinked a few times, registering the fact that Hermione was looking at him with a worried expression on his face, before taking the book from Ron's grasp and studying the page. Hermione was right. It sort of did look like his handwriting.

"Oh." Was all he could say, turning his head this way and that to look at it from different angles.

"I think you're right."

Hermione beamed at the smile that had wormed its way onto his face, giggling a little at Harry's next sentence.

"You're right, that is sort of sweet. A little mushy and 'oh-my-god-I-can't-believe-they-never-said-anything' but also sort of sweet."

Ron was miming gagging from his seat in the chair, so his girlfriend whacked him round the head.

"I can't believe it!" He said, rubbing the sore spot "all those years I thought they were just good friends, and it turns out they were banging each other down the corridor! Oh my god! They might have done _it_ whilst we stayed in the same house! I think I'm going to be sick!"

It was Harry who hit him this time, using the book as a weapon. Ignoring his friend's angry outcry, he flicked forward towards the most recent entries.

"If you don't mind," he said as he turned the pages "I'd rather not think about my godfather's love life. As sweet as it may be, it still sort of freaks me out. It's like discussing Mr and Mrs Weasley going at it."

Ron started gagging again, his face going bright red as he shielded his eyes from invisible images.

"Oh gross!" he cried, giving his girlfriend a light smack on the arm for her laughter.

A dark green page with silver writing caught his eye, making Harry turn back a few sheets to find the page again. It was a simple piece of Slytherin green card stuck to the parchment, silver ink forming the curly, almost girly handwriting that was in the centre of the card.

'_**I hate you and I love you differ in only three letters, and the circumstances in which they are said.**_**' **

Harry's confusion must have shown on his face, for Hermione asked him what was wrong. He passed the book over to her, listening as she explained.

"'I hate you' and 'I love you' differ in only two letters, and the circumstances in which they are said. Pretty deep – oh, don't you understand, Harry? The author is essentially saying that they mean the same thing – which is nonsense, of course. I think they _might_ be implying that 'hate' is a word people say when circumstances won't _allow _them to say 'love'."

"Circumstances?" Ron question, shaking his head "surely it would be easier on everyone if they just said 'love' and were done with it. Talk about trashy romance."

Hermione clicked her tongue in impatience, rolling her eyes at her boyfriend. "You forget, Ronald, that society dictates there are certain people that simply _cannot _love each other; a pureblood is not _supposed _to love a muggle born, for example. Likewise, a wizard is not_ supposed_ to fall in love with a muggle, someone on the 'light' side should not fall in love with someone on the 'dark' and there are even still people out there who are against same-sex relationships too. What would _you_ say if Harry told you he were in love with Malfoy?"

"Are you trying to tell me that every time Harry tells Malfoy he hates him, he's really saying _loves _him?" Ron was laughing, but disgust lingered on his face, his lips twisted into a grimace.

"No, don't be so silly," Hermione replied, smiling a little as she shut the book "but the author is."

Harry almost choked in surprise, coughing as his own disbelieving laughter stuck in his throat at her words.

"You've got to be kidding me!" He cried, returning to his seat for lack of anything better to do "we're always fighting!"

"Well," Hermione said, a knowing, playful expression on her face "some people would say he was just trying to get you're attention every time he insults you."

"Well duh," Ron replied, rolling his eyes "that bastard is always picking fights."

Hermione rolled her eyes, still smiling.

"No, I mean, some would say that he simply doesn't know how to convey his feelings. Think of it as – as pulling pigtails."

"Ey?"

"When you were younger, if you liked a girl, I bet you teased her instead of just telling her." Hermione explained, giving her boyfriend a knowing grin as he blushed "muggles call it 'pulling pigtails' because that's what young boys do to girls they like – they pull on their pigtails, simply because they don't know how else to react."

Ron started laughing again, but Harry was torn between being amused or disgusted, and found his shock that Hermione could even think such a thing outweighed both feelings.

"So now you're saying that what Malfoy is _really _doing is not picking fights, but instead trying to convey his 'hidden feelings'? What bullshit."

Hermione patted his head lightly, passing the book back to Harry, no doubt thinking he would want it for the pages his parents wrote.

"I'm not saying anything," she explained, smiling comfortingly at Harry "I was just explaining that secret, that's all. I didn't mean anything by it."

But the seed was planted, and Harry knew he wouldn't be forgetting her words any time soon.

xxXXxx

"Man, could this lesson be anymore boring?" Ron whispered, scowling at the back of their professor's head as she wrote out notes on the board for the class to copy.

Harry shrugged, dipping his quill into his ink well and writing down the next line.

"I suppose it could be worse," he replied in an equally hushed voice "she could be making us listen to a lecture on the various safety precautions we must always be aware of both in and out of lessons."

Ron snorted in laughter, ducking his head down and scribbling away when McGonagall turned around to glare at him.

Harry jumped a little when he felt something hit the back of his head, turning around at the snickering that followed. He found the source to be a gang of Slytherin's at the back of the room, a smirking Malfoy sat in the middle. He looked to the ground, finding a balled up piece of parchment, and quickly reached down to pick it up.

Unfolding the note, he saw what looked to be a sketch of a triumphant Slytherin team, the words _Good luck for the match, Potter,_ written on the back. Rolling his eyes at the childishness of it, he stuffed the note into his pocket, returning to his work in favour of ignoring the blonde and his irritating antics.

A few moments later, another piece of parchment was thrown, though this one landed directly in front of Harry, creating splodges in his notes where it hit wet ink. Sighing, he unfolded the note, uncaring of the stains the ink would leave on his fingers.

_Scared, Potter? _

The statement conjured the memory of the first time that question had escaped the blonde's lips, and he couldn't stop the fond smile that the memory brought with it.

_You wish_. He wrote underneath it, using his wand to direct it back to its owner.

The reply came mere seconds later, landing in front of him once more.

_You should be_.

Ron took the note from him out of curiosity, snickering as he read the pathetic comments the two teenagers had written. This time, when McGonagall turned round, Ron wasn't quick enough to stifle his laughter, and so the note was taken from him by an angry Professor.

"You two should no better than to pass notes in my lessons," she snapped, reading over it with raised eyebrows.

"Mr. Malfoy."

"Yes, Professor?" the blonde's statement could have passed for innocent, were it not for the smirk resting firmly on his face.

"You and Mr. Potter here both have a detention tomorrow night, at eight, in my office."

"What? But, Professor-"

"Keep talking, Mr. Malfoy, if you wish for me to make that a week of detentions."

Malfoy shut his mouth instantly, scowling at woman as she returned to her position in front of the class before turning his glare on Harry instead.

"Thanks, mate," Harry complained, nudging his best friend playfully "just what I need."

"Sorry," Ron replied, looking guilty. "At least it gives you a chance to brag about our upcoming win this Saturday."

Their was no doubt in his voice, and Harry couldn't help wonder what he would do if they ended up loosing the match.

xxXXxx

"Oi, Potter!"

Harry couldn't stop the quiet groan that escaped his lips as Malfoy's voice echoed down the corridor. He had left dinner early, feigning sickness simply so he could return to his dormitory and flick through the Book of Secrets, and knew without looking that the corridor was empty except for him and the blonde Slytherin coming up behind him.

"What do you want, Malfoy?"

"Oh, just to thank you for the detention you've got me in to tomorrow evening."

"Me?" the Gryffindor snapped, turning around to face his rival "you started it!"

Malfoy rolled his eyes, his voice dripping with malice.

"Real mature, Potter. Of course it's your fault! If you and that pathetic excuse for a wizard you call your friend hadn't been snickering over your own lame jokes, McGonagall would never have found the note, ergo I would never have been given a detention."

"Well, if you hadn't sent the note in the first place, maybe Ron and I would never have been caught."

"Maybe if you'd been a bit more discrete you wouldn't have been caught in the first place." Malfoy snapped, rolling his eyes.

Harry sighed, realising the argument could go on all night.

"Whatever, Malfoy," he said, beginning to walk away.

"Hey!" the blonde called after him "I'm not finished with you yet!"

"Well I'm finished with you." Harry almost jumped at how much that sounded like he was breaking up with the boy, and was suddenly thankful that there were no witnesses.

"Finished with me?" Malfoy echoed his thoughts "sounds like you're breaking up with me, Potter. Trying to tell me something?"

The Gryffindor stopped, turning back to face the blonde with a cocky smirk on his face.

"To be breaking up with you, Malfoy, I would first have to be dating you, and the thought occurs that I wouldn't date you even if you tied me to a bed and threatened me with castration – and I wouldn't put anything past you."

Harry ignored the brief hurt that might have passed over Malfoy's face, instead listening as the blonde spat out his reply.

"I hate you, Potter, I hate you!"

"'_I hate you' and 'I love you' differ in only three letters, and the circumstances in which they are said. Pretty deep – oh, don't you understand, Harry? The author is essentially saying that they mean the same thing – which is nonsense, of course. I think they **might **be implying that 'hate' is a word people say when circumstances won't **allow **them to say 'love'."_

"_Circumstances?" Ron question, shaking his head "surely it would be easier on everyone if they just said 'love' and were done with it. Talk about trashy romance."_

_Hermione clicked her tongue in impatience, rolling her eyes at her boyfriend. "You forget, Ronald, that society dictates there are certain people that simply __**cannot **__love each other; a pureblood is not __**supposed **__to love a muggle born, for example. Likewise, a wizard is not __**supposed**__ to fall in love with a muggle, someone on the 'light' side should not fall in love with someone on the 'dark' and there are even still people out there who are against same-sex relationships too. What would __**you **__say if Harry told you he were in love with Malfoy?"_

"_Are you trying to tell me that every time Harry tells Malfoy he hates him, he's really saying he **loves **him?" Ron was laughing, but disgust lingered on his face, his lips twisted into a grimace. _

"_No, don't be so silly," Hermione replied, smiling a little as she shut the book "but the author is."_

"Didn't you here me, Scar-head? I _said _I hate you!"

Harry's mouth hung open, his brain reeling from the sudden association of the word 'hate' with its opposite, 'love'; there was no _way _it was true. No _way_.

Sometime Harry's during startling – and just slightly disturbing - realisation, Malfoy had drawn his wand, and was now directing it threateningly towards the Gryffindor's heart.

"Do your Mudblood roots prevent you from understanding plain English?" Malfoy taunted, trying to get a rise out of his rival "or have you turned out to be a Squib after all?"

"_Think of it as – as pulling pigtails." _

"_Ey?" _

"_When you were younger, if you liked a girl, I bet you teased her instead of just telling her." Hermione explained, giving her boyfriend a knowing grin as he blushed "muggles call it 'pulling pigtails' because that's what young boys do to girls they like – they pull on their pigtails, simply because they don't know how else to react."_

Pulling pigtails? Was that what Malfoy was doing?

Harry mentally slapped himself; he and Malfoy were enemies – not to mention male – so there was just _no way _–

"…_society dictates that there are certain people who simply **cannot **love each other…people say 'hate' when circumstances won't allow them to say 'love'…"_

"…_he's really saying he __**loves**__ him?"_

Malfoy had begun to step towards him, furious at being ignored, but also a little - worried?

_'Not possible,'_Harry decided, still staring blankly at his nemesis _'simple just __**not possible**_!'

"You know, if you stood there looking all helpless and defenceless like that in front of a _real _enemy, they might not be so lenient."

Harry barely caught the words, snapping back to reality as the elder teenager said them only to find the blonde standing just a _little _too close for comfort, Malfoy's face hovering mere inches from his own.

"_Lenient_?" Harry knew he should have questioned the 'real enemy' part of the statement – and, judging from Malfoy's raised eyebrow, the blonde knew it too – but he wasn't ready to know the answer.

"You're still alive, aren't you?"

Malfoy didn't wait for a reply, instead simply walking away, tucking his wand into his robes as he went.

"…_still alive…"_

Malfoy could have hurt him; there was no one around - no one to witness the event – and he hadn't even tried to defend himself…If that was what he had wanted, the Slytherin could have bound him within seconds, dragging him off to the Dark Lord with ease in a chance that he would probably never see again now he had simply waved it away.

But he hadn't.

'_Love? You have__**got **__to be kidding me_…'

xXx

The crumpled note unfolded as Harry's fingers smoothed the parchment out, the elegant script unchanged from the last time it was read.

_Good luck for the match, Potter!_

The handwriting was cursive, full of complicated but oddly – _pretty_? – loops that reminded Harry of old style calligraphy. It was very different to his own messy scrawl, and Ron's small, spiky letters that were hastily laid onto day-late homework sheets, but not so different from Hermione's neat, curvy writing that was smaller than that which he now stared at in horror; this handwriting was all too familiar.

Harry felt around under his pillow for the Hogwarts Book of Secrets, leaning back against the wall once he'd found it as he opened the book to the dog-eared page that had become smooth and worn from over-handling.

The same loop on the 'f', the same twist at the top of the 'l', the same 't' that was crossed with a slanted line, written slightly separate from the other letters, the same elegant curl on the end of vowels – the same size handwriting, the same style handwriting, _the same handwriting_.

Harry slammed the book shut, letting both it and the note fall to the bed-covers beside him, choosing instead to hide his head within his hands. Malfoy had written the words that had been troubling him so much – there was no denying it.

'_But maybe whoever wrote it used some sort of charm on the page'_ his mind supplied, determined to make one last effort to disprove the theory_'and even if he __**did**__ write it, it doesn't necessarily mean he was talking about us. I mean, he insults Hermione just as much – and Ginny, too, he's always disliked her…'_

'_**But when has Malfoy ever told them he hates them**_' his conscience asked, the words slithering into existence and trampling over his previous arguments in a single statement.

Harry rubbed a hand over his face, the other running through his hair as he tried to recollect every fight he and Malfoy had ever had, the details of each argument swirling away like water down an un-plugged drain. When _had_Malfoy ever told them he hated them? When had he ever told _anyone_he hated them? In fact, before the first instance he called recall when Malfoy told _Harry _he hated him wasn't until the middle of sixth year.

With his last argument dismissed, Harry found himself lost. In some completely illogical and round-about sort of way, it all made sense; Malfoy was at the centre of his world, never a day going by when the two didn't fight, never a class going by when the two didn't compete, never a quidditch match passing when his concentration wasn't almost completely focused on the blonde, never a meal passing when he didn't look for the blonde…

Oh. Shit.

"_Trust me, the feeling's entirely mutual."_

A noise similar to that which a Hippogriff makes when lesser beings – no names mentioned – were stupid enough to insult them resounded around the dormitory, followed by a hollow _thud _as Harry's head hit the wall behind him.

No. Freakin'. Way.

He had actually – he had almost – he – he –…he had been talking as though it was_he _who was in love with _Malfoy_.

'_No chance in hell. I was insulting him when I said it – I watch for him because he's always up to something! I-I-I…I'm all out of ideas again.'_

Needing to distract himself, Harry picked up the wrinkled parchment again, flipping it over to study the picture which he had hardly glanced at when he first received the note. The picture – which was surprisingly good, considering how fast it must have been drawn – showed Malfoy standing at the fore-front of the Slytherin team, his face glorious as the snitch fluttered its wings hopelessly despite the elegant fingers curled around it. His hair was windswept from the game, and his quidditch robes were slightly creased (and yet still as perfect as ever). The rest of the Slytherin team stood behind him, sketchy in detail but clearly supporting him with cheers and sneers towards the put-out Gryffindor team that was just leaving the pitch.

Harry, Ron and Hermione were the only other people drawn in any sort of detail, though Ron's form had been made lanky and out of proportion (Harry didn't doubt that it was on purpose), his face twisted in disappointment, and Hermione was clinging onto his arm, her curly locks bushier than in real life. Harry, though, was standing slightly ahead and to the right of them, facing the Slytherin team with an almost teary expression as his right hand clutched painfully at his broom. As the Gryffindor watched the image, it was with some surprise he realised the depicted blonde was turning towards the darker haired boy, a small smile on his lips that was more friendly than triumphant. Harry, in turn, gave a mock bow, a grin on his own lips as he rose back up, winking at the blonde as he did so.

And, with a strangled cry of shock, Harry tore the note in half.

XXxxXX

A/N; well, there it is, the first chapter. I'll post the next either tomorrow or the day after.

Reviews are appreciated!

A note to readers of 'Veela Genes'

Well, it's been rather a long time since I last updated that fic, hasn't it? I'm sorry, but these last months have been crazy (on top of everything else, our mother decided we should up and move house, so among packing, unpacking, living without the internet for nearly two months [I don't know how I survived! so things have been a bit hectic)!

_Anyway_, I am determined to finish that fic, but every time I sit down to write it I get writers block. I have, however, already written the last chapter, so no matter how longer it takes me, I _will _finish it. Please bear with me!

Hugs to all!


	2. Means I love you

* * *

How idiotic can I be? bows head in shame. I cannot believe how much of a fool i've been (you will not believe how stupid I feel right now, lol). My greatest thanks to elisebanana for pointing out in her review that 'I hate you' and 'I love you' actually differ in three letters, not two! I've gone through these chapters and edited the phrase as appropiate, but I can't help but feel incredibly stupid right now, lol. Hope you can forgive me. However, am I the only one that feels the phrase just doesn't have the same ring to it anymore?

* * *

A/N; here we are, the 2nd and last chap. Enjoy!

xxXXxx

"I'll be back in a few hours. I expect those desks to be sparkling when I return."

Professor McGonagall shut the door to the storage room with a soft_click_, leaving the two teenagers alone for the duration of the detention (though numerous charms had been activated to stop them leaving or using magic).

Upon arriving at his head of house's office a few minutes after eight, Harry and Malfoy had been led down several corridors and a flight of stairs before being ushered into a large storage room where the examination desks had been set out for them to scrub. Each desk was covered in graffiti from bored students who had finished their exams early in years gone by, and whilst the writing could be removed with a simple charm, it seemed that the Professor's of Hogwarts were vindictive enough to save the task especially for students who got bored during lessons.

"I can't believe you got me into this!" Malfoy snapped, crossing his arms angrily.

Harry groaned, walking over to where the cleaning materials had been laid out on one of the desks, and gathered his set of supplies.

"Don't start that again, Malfoy," he replied, taking his bucket of soapy water, a clean cloth and a bottle of a magical cleaning agent to a nearby desk. Setting the bucket down on the floor, he dipped the cloth into the water, wringing it out before dropping it onto the hard wood of the desk and beginning to scrub.

It was going to be a _long _night.

He looked up as he heard the rustling of clothes, startled to see the blonde standing a few desks away in a pair of black jeans and a green sleeveless shirt, the top three buttons left open to reveal an expanse of pale skin with a light dusting of blonde chest hair. He watched as the other teenager carefully folded his robes over the back of one of the chairs, tossing his hair out of his eyes as he did so. The blonde then proceeded to walk over to the other set of supplies, bending over a little to reach for the other bucket, causing the tight material of his jeans to hug his taut ass for one perfect moment before he straightened up, gathered his other things and taking them over to a desk across the other side of the room, facing Harry so they could continue their argument.

"I wasn't starting anything again," he replied, not realising Harry was still staring at him in shock "I was merely stating a fact. I really _can't _believe you were stupid enough to get caught with a note in class."

Harry blinked a few times, trying to tear his eyes away from the personification of sexy that was Draco Malfoy, not having heard the words the other teenager had spoken.

Malfoy finally looked up from where he had begun cleaning, raising his eyebrows at the Gryffindor.

"What, no attempt at a witty comeback? I'd almost be disappointed, if there was anything to miss."

"Huh?"

The blonde rolled his eyes. "Pathetic," he sneered, scrubbing the desk at a leisurely pace "you can barely string together an intelligible syllable, never mind an entire sentence."

Harry finally snapped out of his haze, berating himself for being so distracted by a little bit skin (a very _nice _bit of skin, mind you), quickly forming a reply.

"Piss off, Malfoy."

He never claimed it was a _good _reply.

"Merlin, it does more than just get innocent people into trouble – it swears too!"

Harry ignored the jibe, taking a deep breath to dispel the thoughts of Sirius that the other teenager had conjured.

"Don't you have anything better to do than insult me? I would have thought you would too busy kissing Voldermort's ass to rehearse what you're going to say the next time you see me."

To his credit, the Slytherin barely flinched at the comment, his retort already slipping from his lips.

"Hah, do you really believe you're so important I spend every minute of my day thinking of only you? Despite what you and your swarms of fans may think, the world does not revolve around you."

Harry put a little more force into his work, trying to stay calm. The dark haired teenager realised that, actually, he really _did _spend almost every minute of the day thinking of the blonde, a fact that was rather embarrassing now he thought about it.

"That works both ways, you know; despite what your parents may have led you to believe, the world does not revolve around you either."

The Gryffindor could almost _feel _Malfoy's glare, and regretted his statement immediately; it was obviously a rather touchy subject for the blonde.

"I _really_ hate you!"

"Yeah, well, you can hardly say you love me, can you?" The two teenagers stopped simultaneously, catching each other's horror-filled eyes as the words echoed in both their ears. Draco broke the eye-contact first, scrubbing at the desk with terrified vigour as he brushed off the comment.

"Why the hell would I want to say that to _you_, Hero? Apart from the fact that I _hate _you, love is a thing of children's' tales, invented to beautify sex and give dirty old men a bargaining chip for getting pretty young girls to sleep with them."

Harry studied the Slytherin's half hidden face, watching as Draco pushed his blonde hair behind his ears, his expression almost one of careless disgust…almost.

"Do you really believe that?" He asked softly, causing Draco's hands to still as he looked up again, narrowing his eyes as he tried to chip away at Harry's curiously bewildered emerald eyes to see if he was hiding venomous motives behind a caring façade.

"You Gryffindor's are too goddamn nosy – and bloody stubborn too," he sighed, rolling his eyes at Harry's answering grin "if you really must know, I don't believe that. But I _know _that, and I also know that Malfoy's aren't capable of love. Go look for the little bit of good in some other lost cause, Hero; my heart's made of ice, remember?"

Harry furrowed his brows as the Slytherin started working again, unable to comprehend how Draco could be so cold and yet so deep at the same time.

"And if you _did_ fall in love with someone, would you tell that person?"

Draco sighed, looking up with a scowl on his face.

"What the fuck does it matter to you, Gryffindork?"

"Would you?" Harry pressed, his work completely abandoned now, all his concentration centred on the blonde and what he was saying. Draco snarled at him, dropping his own cloth and leaning back on the table behind him.

"Merlin, I've never known anyone so bloody irritating. Of course I would tell them."

"What about your father?"

"Lucius? What about him?"

"What would happen if you fell in love with a Gryffindor – or worse a Hufflepuff?" Harry mentally hit himself for feeling a pang of jealousy at the thought of his Draco loving someone else; just because he had resigned himself to the fact that he was in love with the blonde, he didn't have to become a jealous love struck fool who stabbed everyone who came within a few meters of his man.

"I never would."

"Why not?"

"Because – because – because I'm a Malfoy!"

"Because circumstances won't allow you to?"

Draco's eyes flew wide in surprise, realisation crashing down upon him in a tidal wave of shock. Harry bit the inside of his cheek nervously, cursing himself for being the reason the blonde was currently looking so distressed, and was hardly surprised when the blonde's lips began to straighten out, his eyebrows falling neatly back into place as he moulded his features into a neutral expression.

"No, because Gryffindors are idiotic and fool-hardy, always running off and getting themselves into trouble with no thought for those of us left behind!"

"Shouldn't you rejoice when we do that? When we run off to get ourselves killed, I mean?"

Draco was startled by the reply, obviously expecting that to be the end of the conversation, so much so that his lips twitched into a grimace as he thought over his last statement. The 'us' hadn't meant anything, really, but it had given the darker haired man something to cling on to, and he knew it was foolish of him to let such a personal word slip into the sentence.

"No, we always mourn because somehow you always manage to survive."

"Oh." Draco rolled his eyes at Harry's flat reply, moving to pick up his cloth.

"But what if you _did_ fall in love with a Gryffindor?"

Draco growled at the dark haired teenager, dropping the cloth and hoisting himself up so he was fully sitting on the desk.

"What if I did?" He snapped, the scowl on his face daring Harry to probe further. The Gryffindor in question was momentarily startled, not having expected such an open reply, but recovered quickly, smiling a little as he mimicked Draco's earlier action of leaning casually against the desk behind him.

"Would you openly date them?"

"Why wouldn't I?" Draco took the offensive position in the conversation, his eyes narrowed again as he tried to figure out just how much Harry had thought about the whole thing. The Gryffindor cocked his head to one side, shrugging a shoulder as he replied.

"I figure your father wouldn't be too happy, is all."

"So long as she's a pureblood witch with a good breeding, an influential family and the proper etiquette, I'm sure Lucius wouldn't mind enough to cause much of a fuss. True, he may try to heavily influence my decisions, but he wouldn't disown me for dating her, if that's what you're getting at."

Harry bit his bottom lip, storing away the fact that Draco called his father 'Lucius' for further deliberation when his mind was preoccupied deciding whether or not to ask his next question. His mouth was open and his lips beginning to shape the first word before he had even come to an appropriate conclusion.

"What if it was a wizard?"

"_Excuse me_?"

"I said, what if-"

"I heard what you said!" The blonde's face was a picture of pure shock, his mouth forming a grimace as he thought of the consequences of his father finding out if it _was _a wizard "how could you even ask such a thing?"

'_There goes any chance of him loving __**me**__'_Harry thought, copying Draco's grimace.

"Would it really be such a bad thing?"

"A bad thing?" Draco shrieked, jumping off the table with a _thud_ "of course it would be a bad thing! Did Weasley ever bother to teach you _anything _about being a pureblood? Merlin, I know they're muggle lovers and all that, but surely even they must see…no, I don't suppose they would…" the blonde trailed off, staring at the ground as he calmed down, eventually taking a deep breath and leaning back against the table again, throwing his head back to stare at the ceiling as he explained.

"I suppose, really, not all parents would have a problem with their child being…well, you know…Pureblood parents, however, are interested only in upholding the glory of the family name and producing an heir to carry on the noble blood line. To be in love with a man…"

Draco shook his head, risking a quick glance at the various emotions flittering across his rival's face before speaking once more.

"Look, Potter – Merlin, I can't believe I'm telling you this – I'm betrothed to Pansy."

"Betrothed?" It was Harry's turn to raise his voice, his eyes flying wide in shock as the word reverberated off the stone walls.

"Keep your voice down will you!" Draco hissed, looking back at the Gryffindor "It's not like I want to be! It was decided before I could even talk – it's just business. Every time I say I love her I really mean I hate her, but it's not like I have a say in it!"

'_I hate you' and 'I love you' differ in only three letters, and the circumstances in which they are said._

So that's what his secret had meant; he _didn't love Pansy_. It had never been about Harry at all. The Gryffindor scowled at the realisation, cursing himself for the misunderstanding, but suddenly so much more angry at Pansy for having his beloved trapped in something he obviously despised.

"How can you marry someone you don't love?"

"Oh, Harry, marriages aren't based on love!" Draco cried, gripping the table with white knuckles in agitation and leaning forward as he spoke. "Do you really think my mother married Lucius because she _loved _him? Our parents arranged the marriage when we were younger to cement the bond between the families, and to keep the money and power within the pureblood lines. So long as we keep up the image of a devoted couple and produce an adequate heir, we don't even have to sleep with each other more than once."

"And if you fall in love with someone else?"

"Then I take them as a lover!"

"And if they refuse to be second to your wife?"

"What would you have me do, Harry? Sign my own death warrant by divorcing my wife and dismissing my family before riding off into the sunset with my beloved? You've been reading too many muggle fairy-tales."

Harry stared at the blonde in silence, registering the use of his first name and the reference to muggle fairy tales whilst thinking through what had been said. So that was it? _That_ was the summary of Draco's life? He tore his gaze away from the other teenager, unable to look at him anymore; he had thought…he had_hoped…_

The blonde sighed after a few moments of silence, prising his fingers from the wood in favour of crossing his arms protectively over his chest.

"Harry, it's counter-productive to fall in love with anyone who isn't Pansy, especially a man. Purebloods – well, purebloods like Lucius – see only the fact that two men cannot produce an heir, and therefore cannot carry on the family name. He would have no objections to me taking a male lover, so long as it created no ripples in the water, but to openly love and date a man…he would have myself and my lover killed before he let the Malfoy name be tarnished by such a scandal – and I haven't even mentioned the Dark Lord yet."

Harry raised his eyes to look at his love, taking in his resigned expression and defensive stance before formulating a reply.

"Are you scared? Is that what it is?"

"Harry, you're not listening to yourself-"

"No, I'm too busy listening to the nonsense that you're parroting! Forget Voldermort, forget Lucius, forget the fact that you're a pureblood – _now _tell me why you can't love a guy."

Draco slowly shook his head, trying to smile but managing only to twist his lips into an expression similar to that of a man who was trying not to insult his girlfriend when she asked if she looked okay (and didn't).

"I can't just forget all that, Harry, because I _am _a pureblood with Lucius for a father and the Dark Lord for a master."

"_Try_," Harry pleaded, walking around the two tables that stood between him and the blonde "just for a minute, _try_."

Draco cocked his head in confusion, his hair framing his dull grey eyes as he thought, watching Harry move closer until they stood just a few feet apart.

"Why can't you fall in love with someone else if there's no blood to slip on?"

"Harry," Draco murmured, uncrossing his arms but not moving closer "think of what you are asking me. I'm a Malfoy, I'm betrothed, I'm set to become a Death Eater as soon as I leave school – what would _you_ do if you were me? What would _you_do if your task were to hand your love over to someone who's only goal in life is to kill him?"

Harry let the question roam around his mind for a moment or two, thinking over each of the words in turn, _knowing _he'd missed something but not quite…

Draco rolled his eyes, managing a small smile at the confused expression on Harry's face.

"You're such a Gryffindor," he said softly "but you can't expect everyone to be like you. We can't all be heroes, otherwise there'd be nothing special about you."

"There isn't anything special about me," Harry replied, his words just as soft as his companions "and I'm no hero."

"No, I don't suppose you are. But you're kind, you're honest, you truly care about people, you would no doubt give up everything to be with the one you love – that makes you special, Harry, it really does. Ginny is lucky to have you."

"Ginny?" Harry furrowed his brows "she doesn't have me."

"She doesn't?" Draco raised his eyebrows, relaxing a little as they fell back into an easy conversation "there goes Hogwart's couple of the year. I thought you two were dating."

Harry smiled, shaking his head and letting out a little chuckle, following Draco's example and sitting upon the desk, trying to ignore the shiver that went straight down his spine as their knees brushed together.

"Naah. We date_d_, last year, but we broke up."

"Why?"

Harry couldn't help but blush, only a little disappointed that he hadn't figured out what the blonde had meant earlier now that they were talking normally again.

"Well, erm…I sort of, um – Jeese, she's great an' all, but I love her more like a sister, and it was just plain weird dating her. Besides, I suppose I prefer guys."

Draco raised his eyebrows, his eyes sparkling as he taunted the Gryffindor.

"You _suppose_? What, are you in love with a cross-dresser or something?"

Harry let out another laugh, shaking his head as he leaned back using his arms to support him.

"No, not at all! But I'm in love with a guy, and he's the_ only_ guy I've _ever _been attracted to so…" Harry shrugged, still blushing furiously as Draco grinned at him.

"Well, do you still get turned on by tits?"

Harry burst out laughing, giving the boy opposite him a kick for the remark.

"I am _so _not answering that!"

Draco was laughing too, leaning forward a little as he became more comfortable with the situation.

"Oh come on, it's a simple question! Ah well, I suppose you'll just have to wait till you bed a guy then you can compare the experience to shagging a girl."

Harry's blush, to his horror, deepened, the dark red flush spreading down his neck as his cheeks burned with embarrassment.

"Oh my god!" Draco cried, his eyes wide with amusement as he continued to laugh "you're a virgin? You can't be serious! Have you really never fucked _anyone_?"

Harry took in the sight of Draco fully at ease, committing the details to memory for fear of never seeing the sight again.

"Um – well…how can you be so crude?!"

Draco burst out laughing again, leaning back as the room filled with the proof of his joy at the discovery.

"Oh, now that's good! You're the most famous guy in school and you can't get _laid_?"

"Shut it!" Harry tried to scowl at the other teenager, but the smile shone through anyway as he rewarded the Slytherin with another kick. "It's not like I've not had _offers_ or anything…it's just…" Harry shrugged, shaking his head a little "I can't believe I'm discussing this with you!"

"Awe!" Draco cooed, still chuckling a little "So innocent! You never talk about who you like with Weasley?"

Harry shrugged carelessly, blushing a little again "he always rants about 'Mione – never stops long enough for me to get a word in edgeways. Besides, he ah – he doesn't know I like guys."

Draco furrowed his eyebrows, his voice curious but unthreatening.

"I thought he was your best friend?"

"Oh, don't get me wrong, he is! It's just…he might freak out a little to begin with, and I just don't know how to tell him. You're – you're kinda' the only one who knows so far."

"Honoured, I'm sure," Draco's tone was careless, but the smile on his face and the light blush that stained his pale cheeks told Harry he was pleased.

"Well, I haven't left you as long as I planned – hope you two haven't killed each oth-oh my god!"

The two boys jumped in unison as the door clicked open and their professor strode in, stopping dead in her tracks as she saw the two boys sitting opposite each other on the tables, legs brushing together with smiles on their faces.

Harry spun his head around to look at his shocked teacher, taking in her wide eyes and pale cheeks as well as the hand she had laid over her heart and the surprised 'o' shape her lips had formed. Grimacing a little, he turned back to face Draco, who, unsurprisingly, had already jumped off the table, face blank again as he busied himself straightening his robes. Giving a small sigh, Harry sombrely placed both his feet back on the floor, turning around fully to face the still silent woman.

"Professor," he greeted, a wry smile on his face "had a nice evening?"

Beside him, Draco gave a quiet snort of laughter, passing Harry a small grin as he stepped past to gather their cleaning materials.

Professor McGonagal gaped at him, blinking rapidly a few times before shaking her head a little and rubbing her temples with her fingers.

"Just go, boys. Go on, out with you."

Draco sent Harry another smile over his shoulder as he left the room, knowing the Gryffindor was closely on his heels.

"And go straight back to your dormitories!" their professor called after them "no duelling in the corridors!"

Once they had rounded the corner, Harry burst out laughing, using the wall to support himself. Draco allowed himself an indulgent smile, raising his eyebrows at the dark haired teenager before leaning against the wall facing Harry.

"Well, that was awkward."

The blonde's dry statement only made Harry laugh harder, his mirth being infectious enough to make Draco chuckle a little at the sight.

"Did you see the look on her face?" Harry gasped, one hand over his heart as his pulse began to slow again. His chuckles died out along with the blondes, sobering completely when he saw the almost distressed grimace on his – what, enemy? –'s face.

"What's the matter?"

"W-Why-…" the Slytherin hesitated long enough for Harry to know that for once the blonde was nervous, his eyes skating the distance of the wall between them but never once looking into Harry's own.

"Why were you asking me all those questions?"

Harry pursed his lips (mentally hoping he didn't look anything like his Aunt Petunia), waiting until Draco met his eyes before replying.

"Why did you answer them?"

Draco looked taken aback, straightening up and schooling his features into an expression of aloofness.

"Hah, you'd have to be a fool to believe any of that!" He sneered, though they both knew it was too late "oh, wait, I forgot; you _are _a fool."

Harry grinned at him, shrugging lightly as he turned to face the blonde.

"Well, what can I say – I am a Gryffindor after all."

Draco let out a quiet laugh, his expression faltering for the slightest moment.

"Well – goodnight, I suppose."

Harry tried not to let his disappoint show, but the quirk in Draco's right brow told him he was hopeless at masking his emotions.

"Yeah. Yeah, goodnight then."

When he didn't move, the blonde rolled his eyes at him, turning around and walking down the corridor that would eventually lead him to the entrance hall, and on to the Slytherin common room.

"Oh, and Potter?"

Harry hadn't moved yet, but the surprise didn't show on Draco's face as he turned back to talk to him.

"I still hate you, you know."

And there it was – that secret little smirk of his; only now the joke wasn't so private, because Harry knew it too.

"I know," Harry replied, giving a small nod. Draco's smirk fell a little, but he was too far away for the Gryffindor to be sure if it meant he was disappointed with the reply, and the Slytherin returned the nod before walking once more.

'_You idiot!' _Harry berated himself, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath as he tried to calm his nerves '_you should have said it! You should have said _anything _other than that! Now he thinks you don't like him back! For fuck sake, tell him!' _

"Draco!" Harry called, his mind still yelling at his mouth from inside his head – though now he had begun to doubt himself. The Slytherin stopped again, turning back with a – was it too bold of Harry to label that look hopeful?

"Yeah?"

"I – I…"

'_Don't be a fool! Tell him!'_

"I hate you too!"

The words echoed down the corridor, filling the space between the two teenagers with crackling tension as they both recognized the significance of the statement. Harry took another deep breath, his palms suddenly sweaty as the full weight of what he had said fell down on him. Oddly enough though….Harry knew he could have said something different. There was another word that described this feeling – this longing, this passion, this care and understanding -, one that Harry was cautious to use in public, despite there being no one around. But, still, they both knew what the word was, and they both knew what it meant.

'_I love you_'.

Draco was even further away now, and though Harry was sure the blonde was smiling, he couldn't be too sure.

"I know." The reply came in an amused tone of voice, and Harry could hear the relief in the statement.

'_So…what now?_'

Harry wasn't sure what he should do – the corridor was too dark down the other end for him to properly see the Slytherin, and he wasn't sure what was next – oh, sure, he knew what he _wanted_, but he could still hear Draco's words from earlier repeating in_both _their heads, and he _knew, _he _knew _it would never work.

"Well…" Harry said, his voice quiet – he half wondered if Draco would ever hear the words they said. "Goodnight then."

He was the one who turned away this time, his feet falling heavily on the floor to create a soft _thump _that repeated the unsteady rhythm of his heart. So that was it?

"Harry!"

The Gryffindor stopped, his heart leaping to his throat as he heard Draco running down the corridor to catch up with him. He slowly turned, surprised to see the angry expression on the blonde's face.

"That's it?" The Slytherin asked as he drew near, one hand balled into a fist. "That's _it_?"

"Huh?"

Draco rolled his eyes, standing so close to the Gryffindor that Harry had to almost crane his neck looking up at him.

"You are such a fool sometimes."

"So you've sai-"

The rest of Harry's word was cut off by Draco's mouth, a startled squeal escaping him when he felt the smooth lips press against his own. He could feel the blonde's smirk as his eyes slowly fluttered closed, his mind shutting down in disbelief, leaving his body to deal with the situation by itself. One of Draco's hands tilted Harry's face to a slight angle, meshing their mouths together in a more comfortable – pleasurable – position so he could gently prise Harry's lips open with his tongue. Harry couldn't help but moan when he felt the other hand come to rest at the small of his back under his open robes, fingers splaying over the skin just under the waist of his jeans, pulling him closer. The Gryffindor didn't mind that their hips bumped together awkwardly for a moment, because the following grind banished any protests he might have considered having had his brain woken up in time (the part of his body that _was_ beginning to wake _certainly_ didn't have any protests).

Harry finally realised that maybe keeping his hands hovering in mid air either side of the blonde wasn't the best of ideas, and so let one of them snake its way to the back of the blonde's neck, playing with the smaller strands of hair that hung their, the other clutching at the rumpled fabric of the other man's robes. He parted his lips in response to Draco's teasing tongue, entangling his own with the other as he began to get the hang of the whole 'kissing' thing.

Kisses with Ginny had never been like this. They had, at times, been too light, chaste and lacking feeling. At other times they had been too messy, her lips pressing hard against his, her tongue almost choking him in her eagerness to please – though whether she was trying to please him or just herself was something he never liked to think about.

This kiss wasn't perfect, as far of kisses go; their nose bumped together before they repositioned themselves, and their teeth clashed for a time in their desperation – they had waited so _long _– and Harry could feel Draco's nervousness – like he thought that maybe Harry didn't mean it after all, as though maybe he had never really understood what it all meant.

Draco pulled away a little, his teeth nipping at Harry's lower lip and dragging it with him, sucking gently before letting go and placing several softer kisses at the corner of his mouth.

'_This,_' Harry decided, his mouth curving into a grin as he opened his eyes '_must be what love feels like_'. Because his heart was beating too fast, and he knew his cheeks were flushed, and his breath was coming out in harsh pants (and, speaking of pants, his were getting just a little too tight), and his eyes were probably slightly glazed over, and his neck hurt a little, and his brain still wasn't working right – but it was _perfect_, and he knew that this – this angel before him with a soppy grin (one that looked slightly out of place on the Slytherin's face), oddly pale cheeks, mused hair (the Gryffindor hoped he wasn't around when the blonde realised Harry had been the one to cause the damage) and swollen lips – was the man he was in love with.

xxXXxx

"-so unfair! I mean, she _knows _we have quidditch practise tonight – you would think she wouldn't give us any homework at all, so we could practise more; after all, she should want us to win! Do you think that maybe- Harry? Harry, mate, you alright?"

"Hmm?" Harry looked up at his friend's amused expression as he snapped out of his thoughts, suddenly realising Ron had been ranting about McGonagall on the way to their next lesson.

"Sorry, Ron, wasn't paying attention."

Hermione sent him a worried glance, but his bemused eye roll told her he was fine.

"Hey!" A voice snapped on other side as his arm collided with another. "Oh, it's you," the blonde Slytherin sneered, barely glancing at those accompanying the Gryffindor.

"Watch where you're going. You may be the Headmaster's golden boy, but you don't own these halls."

Harry tried hard not to grin at the irritated look that passed over his boyfriend's face at the amused grunts from the two oafs behind him, automatically opening his mouth to reply though he was cut off by the red head beside him.

"Oh, and I suppose you think that just 'cause your father is a death eater you do?"

The blonde scowled dangerously at him, but Ron didn't take the hint.

"You seem to have forgotten, Ferret – Daddy dearest is in prison now. I don't think he's much use in there!"

"Ron." Harry warned quietly, nudging his friend with his elbow.

"What?" The red head replied indignantly, glaring at the teenager opposing them "honestly Harry, the git thinks _he _owns the place. It's like the rest of us don't even exist – though, at the moment, it's his father who might as well not exist-"

"You little –" Draco's wand was out before Ron could even blink, but Harry's voice cut off his own.

"Ron!" He snapped, before ignoring the confused expression stare he was given as a reply and turning to the blonde.

"Ron's right, Malfoy – we have just as much right to be here as you do. If I did own the place, don't you think I would charge for its usage?"

"I would just kick him out all t'gether," came the angry mumble from beside him, and Harry couldn't help but smirk a little.

"Always knew you weren't as heroic as they made you out to be. Maybe this little golden-boy isn't so golden after all."

"I like to think of myself as bronze, actually."

The Gryffindor allowed himself a smug smirk as he caught the slight upturn of Draco's mouth.

"Though," he continued, "I don't think it quite has the same ring to it."

Harry was aware of Hermione's calculated gaze switching between him and the Slytherin, but at this moment he was having too much fun to care. He finally understood this feeling of elation that always followed his little spats with the young man he loved, and he knew now that these moments were always the high point of his day.

"Harry, come on," Hermione urged, tugging on her boyfriend's arm and pulling him ahead "we're going to be late."

"That's right, run along after your precious little muggle-spawn; ever the world's obedient star, aren't you?"

Harry began following his friends, making sure his arm 'carelessly' knocked into Draco's once more (and if his fingers happened to lightly skate across the palm of his hand, then it was purely coincidental and completely disgusting).

"Actually, surprisingly enough, I _do _have a mind of my own." He let the statement hang, sending a pointed look towards Draco's body guards. "Unlike _some_."

Again, Harry watched Draco fight back the smile, before giving him a small nod and walking off down the corridor.

"I hate you, Potter!" The Slytherin's scathing voice called after him, and he couldn't stop the laughter from bubbling up in his throat. He slowed his pace, adding a slight swagger to his step as he threw a cocky smirk at the love of his life.

"Trust me," he replied "the feeling is _entirely_ mutual."

XXxxXX

A/N; ah, there it is, finally finished! cheers It's been a long time since I've finished anything I've begun, heh, so I'm really rather proud of myself for this!

Reviews are always very much appreciated!


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